


Don't Walk Away Again

by fortunatefolly



Category: The Closer
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:30:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatefolly/pseuds/fortunatefolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharon doesn’t tell him that while she refused Brenda once, she’s not sure she can do it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Walk Away Again

Sharon isn’t sure what motivation had driven Lieutenant Provenza to call and notify her, but she is grateful for the observant lieutenant. She drives into the parking garage of the hospital, the parking ticket tucked between her lips as she pulls into an open space. When she goes to stick the ticket into her purse, she tries to rub off the lipstick smudged onto the sides of the ticket. It just smudges even more. It reminds her of the color of blood, the way it stains her fingertips, and Sharon has to suppress a shudder.

The lieutenant had called her office phone at 11:23am. She remembers the time like it’s been stitched into her memory. Her computer had switched from 11:22 to 11:23 right before she picked up the phone, and she had stared at it while the lieutenant had told her that Brenda had been shot. Sharon had gone completely numb, not really hearing much until the lieutenant repeatedly asked, “Captain, are you there?” Sharon had immediately demanded to know which hospital, and he had withheld the information until he had fully updated Sharon on Brenda’s condition. 

She was going to be fine, the lieutenant had insisted. The bullet had lodged itself into Brenda’s liver, but the doctors had managed to get it out and stop any major bleeding. Surgery had only taken about two hours. She was doing so well, in fact, that the doctors had decided to put her on the regular surgical recovery floor instead of the ICU. No officers had fired their weapons, so there was no need for FID to be alerted. He had just wanted to let the captain know. “Agent Howard will be here all day, and the rest of the division will probably stick around for a few hours,” he had said, his way of warning her of potentially unwanted scrutiny. 

He had then kindly informed her that the chief wouldn’t be waking up from the anesthesia until later in the afternoon, and that UCLA allows visitors 24/7. So Sharon had attempted to power through the rest of the day, not getting a single thing done, and not being able to eat anything. She had eventually given up around 1pm, telling her team that she was taking a half-day, and had gone home and cleaned her entire condo from top to bottom.

Finally, around 7:30pm, after having scrubbed her toilet so clean it practically glowed, she had given up and decided to drive to the hospital. Most of her squad has probably gone home by now, and Agent Howard knows that she and Brenda are friends. Well, at least that’s what they tell anyone who asks. Sharon isn’t quite sure what they are anymore. 

The guide at the reception desk is nice enough, at least when Sharon has the sense to flash her badge, and she follows the directions until she reaches the right floor. As soon as the doors open into the hallway with recovery rooms, the smell hits her. Sharon hates that smell – the stale, septic smell of hospital floors. Hospitals are supposed to help people get better, but it just reminds her of death.

She walks slowly, following the numbered signs until she finds Brenda’s room. The door is open, but Sharon stands in front of the glass window, taking in the sight before. Brenda is lying in bed, covered in a blanket, machines beeping rhythmically around her, telling everybody that she is still alive and kicking. There are flowers everywhere, and about ten different balloons that say, “It’s a girl.” Brenda probably laughed at the joke. After all, her squad functions as a tightly knit family.

Agent Howard is asleep in the visitor’s chair, which has been pulled up right next to the bed. His salty hair peeps out from the top of the backrest. Brenda looks so tiny, and Sharon feels a rush of panic settle back into her stomach, her hand trembling as she brings it up to her mouth. Brenda is so still and so pale; she barely looks alive. Sharon isn’t sure if she should bother disturbing them. She wants to touch Brenda, wake her up and be assured that Brenda will actually be okay instead of just trusting the machines that surround her, but she will settle for longingly watching through the hospital room’s glass window.

She is preparing herself to leave when she hears Will Pope’s voice calling her from behind. She turns, and there he is, in his full dress uniform, paper cup in hand and looking like he is on his second all-nighter.

“Captain Raydor,” he says, giving her a quick nod. 

“Chief Pope,” Sharon replies. “How is she?” She can hear the terror in her voice, and she knows it could give her away at any moment. But she can’t bring herself to care, not when Brenda is dead asleep in a hospital bed, a bullet pulled out from one of her vital organs just hours ago.

“She’ll be fine. She woke up in an awful lot of pain, so the doctors have been keeping her heavily medicated. She’s slept through most of the afternoon,” he says, looking over her shoulder and into the room. It seems even Pope isn’t attempting to pretend. She can see the worry and emotion writ all over his face. He still clearly cares very much for Brenda, maybe even still loves her a little bit. Sharon feels a stab of bitterness in her heart. How very much like Brenda to be lying in her hospital bed while the collection of people whose hearts she claims surround her.

“That’s good,” Sharon says turning back around. She’s not really sure what else she could say. It’s not like she has any real right to Brenda, personally or professionally. She has come more out of a selfish desire to assuage her own fears.

“How did you hear?” Pope asks, and he comes to stand next to her, also looking into the room.

“Lieutenant Provenza gave me a call,” Sharon responds. She runs a shaking hand through her hair, letting out a sigh. Everyone keeps saying Brenda will be fine, but she just can’t believe it. She is about to ask Chief Pope about the shooter when she hears “Sharrrrrrrrroooonnnnnnnn” coming from the room and looks up in alarm. It’s Brenda’s voice, a little raspy, her r’s a little slurred.

But her eyes are open, and she is looking in Sharon’s direction. Sharon feels her stomach unclench a little bit, like she can finally really believe that Brenda is okay. She gives Pope a quick smile before stepping across the threshold into the room. 

Agent Howard wakes up and blinks a few times, rubbing his hands over his face before realizing another person is in the room. When he recognizes Sharon, he stands and extends his hand. “Thank you for coming captain,” he says. He looks like a walking zombie, the stress from today accenting the deep lines on his brow. To say that he looks haggard would be a compliment.

“Not a problem Agent Howard,” Sharon says, taking his hand for a brief moment.

“Shaaarrrrrrooooonnnnn,” Brenda says again with a loopy smile, and Sharon walks over to the bed and looks down at her. Brenda is rubbing her nose, and Sharon feels an ache in her heart constrict. Even at the most inappropriate moments, her love for Brenda sings more loudly than anything else in her heart.

“What do they have her on?” Sharon asks Agent Howard, her eyes not leaving Brenda’s face.

“A lot of morphine,” he says.

“Apparently,” Sharon says, a little bit of mirth in her voice, and Agent Howard chuckles.  

“You’re sooooo pretty. Do you know that?” Brenda says, her finger pointing at Sharon’s face. “Don’t you think she’s pretty Fritzi?” She whisks her head towards her husband, demanding an answer, and he smiles and says, “Very much." 

Brenda turns her head back to Sharon and looks at her, lopsided smile on her face, and Sharon sticks her hand in her pocket because she wants to reach out and run it through Brenda’s hair. That smile – the smile that lights up her entire face – that was one of the first things Sharon had grown to love about Brenda. Before things got messy, Sharon used to catch Brenda staring at her with that smile painted all over her face.

“And your hair, it’s like magic,” Brenda says, trying to reach up and touch Sharon’s hair. Sharon just takes her hand and sets it back on the bed, pulling away when she tries to hold onto it.

“I’m glad you’re okay Brenda,” Sharon says, and Brenda just laughs. 

“I’m more than okay. I feel amaziiiiinnnnnn,” she says. The medication has slowed down her speech. Brenda lifts her index finger with the clip and shoves it in Sharon’s face. “The machine says I’m doing great,” she says and pulls it off, waving it around like a lasso.

“No Brenda, you can’t take that off,” Agent Howard says, standing up again. He’s trying to reach for the finger clip, but before he can get to it, it hits Brenda in the forehead and she is howling a long and angry “Owwwwwwww,” as the machine starts to angrily beep at the loss of a heart rate.

Fritz manages to get the clip back on, and a nurse peeks her head in.

“We’re all good here,” he says, and she smiles before returning to her station. Brenda has finished nursing her forehead, and she is back to staring at Sharon. It is starting to get a little uncomfortable. Sharon was prepared for a lot of things, but Brenda trying to hit on her while extremely high on morphine was definitely not one of them.

Sharon looks up at Agent Howard and asks, “Did they find the shooter?”

He nods and answers, “Yes. Major Crimes had arrested his brother for murder and dealing drugs. He came and shot her while they were rolled out at another crime scene.” Poor Fritz. She may not really like him, and based on the stories that Brenda has shared, she’s not sure if she’ll ever like him, but she can sympathize. She knows what it feels like to be in love with Brenda, to feel entirely burned up by love for her. 

“You sell drugs, you get arrested,” Brenda says rhythmically, like she is singing a nursery rhyme. Sharon sees the way Agent Howard smiles at Brenda’s little song. Sharon needs to leave. She is nothing more than a voyeur in a life that she can never have with Brenda, including terrifying hours by a hospital bed. 

“If you need anything, please let me know. Good night,” Sharon says to the both of them and starts to head for the door. She's got her assurance that Brenda will be okay, and she feels she's maxed out her right to stay. She is almost at the door when Brenda yells.

“Sharoooooonnnnnn, don’t goooo!” She turns around to see Brenda struggling to sit up, and Agent Howard has to hold her down.

“Brenda, the doctor says you can’t move yet. You’re going to rip your stitches!” he says, trying to force her back down, but Brenda is struggling to look at Sharon, peeking her head around her husband’s body. 

“Don’t leave meeeee!” she yells again, and Sharon sighs and walks back to the bed. Brenda stops struggling when she sees Sharon approaching her.

“Brenda, I have to go home now,” Sharon says, risks placing her hand on Brenda’s. Brenda immediately grabs it, trying to lace their fingers, but Sharon holds tight. “I have to go home and sleep, but I can come back tomorrow.” 

Brenda pouts, her bottom lip sticking out and her arms crossed across her chest.

“You always leave me. Don’t leave me again,” Brenda says, and Sharon lets out a long sigh. “If you love somebody, you’re supposed to stay with them.” And Sharon feels her stomach fall about a thousand feet. A spontaneous confession in front of Agent Howard cannot end well.

“Brenda, I – I,” Sharon stutters a few times, not really sure how to respond, and Brenda smirks up at her. Even when extremely high on drugs, Brenda is first and foremost the interrogator, the manipulator.

“Fritzi, did you know that I’m in love with her?” Brenda says suddenly, and Agent Howard’s head snaps up. Sharon dares to look up, to gauge his reaction, and she sees that there isn’t much surprise on his face.

“Brenda, you are being ridiculous,” Sharon finally manages to say.

“I am not!” she says petulantly, like a scolded child. “I’m in love with Sharon,” she continues, trying to sit up again, and Agent Howard has to hold her back down.

“Okay Brenda, okay, you’re in love with Sharon,” he says placatingly, and that seems to calm her down. He places his hand on Brenda’s and squeeze lightly, and Sharon just brings her hand to her forehead. She knows her face is beet red, the embarrassment radiating from her. She tries not to think of that night a few weeks ago, when Brenda showed up at Sharon’s office late into the night and confessed everything – her marriage isn’t working, she’s been in love with Sharon forever, she thinks about her so much it makes her sick at times. 

“But Sharon doesn’t love me back,” Brenda says, looking at Fritz like she is expecting understanding from him, like he is a friend that she can cast her woes on instead of a husband to whom she has vowed love and dedication for the rest of her life.

Agent Howard looks up at Sharon, and Sharon just shrugs and says, “It must be the medication.” He gives her a weak smile, but before she can say anything else, Brenda pokes Sharon in the side and she nearly yelps.

“I told her that I was in love with her,” Brenda says, turning to Fritz and sharing the story with him like he is her best buddy, “and she said that marriage vows are sacred and that we shouldn’t do anythin’ foolish.” 

It’s true. After her confession, when Sharon sat in completely shocked silence, Brenda had demanded some sort of response from Sharon, saying that she knew her feelings aren’t one sided. Sharon had conceded as much, but had said she couldn’t get in the middle of a marriage. She had grabbed her purse and walked out of her office, but not before saying, “I do have feelings for you Brenda, but I can’t have you, not like this.”

That was almost three weeks ago, and they hadn’t really talked since then.

Sharon just shakes her head, unable to look at either Brenda or Agent Howard in the face. The room is entirely drenched in tension, rolling off of both Sharon and Agent Howard in giant waves. When nobody says anything, Brenda giggles and says, “This feels awkward.” She then says, “It’s funny that you’re both here. The woman I love,” she says, pointing to Sharon, “and the man I married,” pointing her other finger at Agent Howard.

Sharon takes a fortifying breath and says, “I’m glad you’re okay Brenda,” then mumbles a quiet “Good night Agent Howard,” and walks out of the hospital room, ignoring Brenda’s cries for her. She is about thirty seconds away from crying, and she is determined not to do so in front of an audience. She came to the hospital to make sure Brenda was okay. She did not expect to be horrified and humiliated, feeling guilty for her feelings, for doing too much, for not doing enough. She makes it about ten steps down the hallway when she hears footsteps behind her. 

“Captain Raydor,” Agent Howard’s exhausted voice calls out. Sharon stops dead in the middle of the hallway, not knowing how she is going to face the man after Brenda’s highly medicated confession.

“Captain,” he says again, and she turns around to find him standing right in front of her. He is looking at her, trying to study her, read her, but she gives him nothing. The one good thing about being in Internal Affairs for so long is that she can put on the cold stony face when she needs.

“That wasn’t the morphine talking, was it?” he asks. Sharon drops her eyes, turns her face to the nurse’s station right next to them. A young woman who barely looks old enough to have finished college is writing out prescriptions while cradling the phone against her shoulder, talking medical jargon into the speaker. Sharon pries her eyes away from her and looks up at Agent Howard. There is no use lying. 

Sharon just shakes her head.

“And you really did tell her that you wouldn’t have an affair?” he asks, pleading in his voice, wishing for it to be true, asking for reprieve.

Again, Sharon can’t quite verbalize her feelings, so she just nods.

He looks a little relieved, like a burden has been lifted. If he has suspected Brenda’s feelings, Sharon can imagine that he must have had suspicions about her behavior, questions he never asked Brenda. Or he did and Brenda never gave him a straight answer. Because that is exactly what Brenda would do.

“Thank you,” he says, and Sharon nods. He turns around and starts to walk back to Brenda’s room, and she stares after him, not quite sure how to detach her feet from the floor. He turns around again when he reaches the door.

“Are you in love with her?” he asks, the worry from before suddenly masking his face again. He stands there, expecting an answer. Her immediate reaction is to nod, but she catches herself from responding. Of course she is in love with Brenda. It’s not something she asked for, not something she chose, but something life forced on her. She can’t do anything about it, but it haunts her, eats away at her sanity.

“How I feel doesn’t matter, Agent Howard,” she says instead. “You are married.”

She turns and walks away, away from Brenda, one more time. Brenda won’t remember a single thing tomorrow, and she suspects Agent Howard won’t bring it up. That would be like throwing a rock on a landmine to see if it’s still active.

Sharon doesn’t tell him that while she refused Brenda once, she’s not sure she can do it again. That if Brenda came back to Sharon, she wouldn’t be able to walk away again.

So she walks away now, hoping Brenda won’t eventually follow her, but secretly wishing she will.


End file.
